


To Measure One's Worth

by CreativeSweets



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Inferiority Complex, Love/Hate, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Self-Esteem Issues, Uchiha Izuna Lives, Warring States Period (Naruto)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 23:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreativeSweets/pseuds/CreativeSweets
Summary: “Can I kiss you?”Oh. Oh,fuck.“Excuse me?”This is it, this is how the second living son of Uchiha Tajima and heir to the Uchiha clan dies.---------------In which Tobirama loves science too much and Izuna is still Izuna.





	To Measure One's Worth

**Author's Note:**

> There's entirely not enough IzuTobi and honestly I could see myself returning to this at some point.
> 
> Please enjoy these two idiots~  
> (I certainly do ahaha)

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh. Oh, _fuck_.

“Excuse me?”

This is it, this is how the second living son of Uchiha Tajima and heir to the Uchiha clan dies. Aniki will be all alone and then—at least his momentary lapse in brain-mouth filter made Tobirama stop . . . _whatever_ it was he was planning on doing that would have surely, surely killed him. His sharingan registers the grip that shifts from where Tobirama was reaching towards his weapons pouch.

Of course, if looks could kill, Izuna’s sure he’d be dead five times over with the cold, seething glare that the Senju is sending his way right now.

Izuna never plans past the moment when fighting his nemesis, because fighting Senju Tobirama with a _plan_ never goes, well, _according to plan_. (That lesson, he will never admit, took much too long to finally sink into his thick skull, but old habits die hard.) So, while he’s staring down the White Devil, he at least attempts to think of a way to finally, finally land a genjustu on the other and maybe make him forget the last, oh, thirty seconds, at _least_. Naturally, because whatever sick, bored god or guardian angel is looming over Izuna’s shoulder and controlling his luck, Senju just has to open his mouth again.

“Repeat that once more, _I dare you_.”

“Can I kiss you?” The words are out of his mouth before he can remember to keep his mouth shut because Izuna loves a good dare and apparently wants to die.

A small crease forms between Tobirama’s eyebrows, a minute pinched look accompanied with a slight down-tick frown.

Ah, shit, that’s his _serious_ thinking face. He grimaces.

Izuna doesn’t want to think about all the horrible, no good times that follow that look. The only way for him to look at his own body after the subsequent scars is for him to make his own scars on top of them in a fit of pique and rage at his inferiority. He releases a controlled breath in attempts to release the tension—deadly when facing such a fast foe—that had seeped into his stance.

“Why.” It’s not phrased as a question, but a demand. And yes, Izuna would very much like to know the reason why too—especially given how very much he didn’t even _want_ to kiss the bastard Senju before!

_Love and hate are two sides of the same coin_ , a voice very much like Aniki’s floats annoyingly through his head.

_Not right now, please_ , Izuna begs back, as he needs all his brain power to think his way through this situation.

Think think think—

“Science!” he blurts out, mentally face-palming at how dumb and immature and _there’s no way_ —

“Hypothesis?”

Izuna’s brain sputters to a halt, because that’s definitely _not_ what he was expecting and now his brain is repeating the word over and over and still not computing. Is . . . is Tobirama actually . . .

He catalogs the faint annoyance that slips into Tobirama’s frown, his eyes that sharpen just a bit in that superior way that screams _you’re an idiot_. Izuna seethes; like Tobirama could do what he’s doing better—what _is_ Izuna doing? His brain pushes the answer forcefully to the front of his brain and he does his best to not flush horribly. He’d like to see Tobirama try and seduce his mortal arch enemy! Yeah, like that terrible, emotionally stunted albino could even have a chance!

Huh. Does Tobirama even _know_ what Izuna is trying to do—albeit unintentionally. (He vigorously ignores the faint stirring of pity that blooms at the thought—because do people not _see_ that Tobirama has such a different way of viewing things?) But Izuna is no coward, so he’s not going to take back what he said, and now he’s trying to brain his way out of this situation that his mouth decided to get him into.

“Your theory. What you’re trying to test.” Tobirama explains like Izuna’s a small child and it makes his chest burn _burn **burn**_ and he catches the hand that closes over his sword just a fraction tighter.

Well, better make his last words count, then. He puts on his most roguishly handsome smirk that never, never fails and hopes Aniki will forgive him.

“That would be telling.” Because there’s absolutely no way he’s going to admit _anything_ to _Tobirama_.

There’s silence, or, at least Izuna thinks there’s silence. There’s not much that he can hear over the roaring of his own heartbeat in his ears. Oh wait, there’s a sizzle of a katon somewhere to his far right and maybe that’s—no, that’s definitely Aniki’s weird self-exploding trap, where _he’s_ the trap and explodes _himself_.

Hopefully Aniki will take his eyes once he dies.

Hopefully the stupid piece of shit guardian devil on his shoulder dies a painful and most agonizing—

“Very well.”

Izuna can’t help it. He gapes and nearly drops his sword as he watches Tobirama’s sword dip down into a less threatening position. Sputtering, Izuna’s not sure whether to deactivate his sharingan—but he can’t really afford _not_ to. Not when it’s Senju fucking Tobirama just calmly closing the distance between them. He doesn’t want to have the sight of Senju fucking Tobirama’s light flush as he saddles awkwardly that last little bit closer burned into his memory permanently.

Their swords clink together, the sound loud and distracting in their little bubble of the battlefield, and there’s a brief moment where Izuna’s sure that he’s going to get stabbed and still die a terrible no good death.

Izuna’s also pretty sure that he’s vibrating in place because this is Senju fucking Tobirama that’s in his personal space and oh fucking shit this is terribly terribly awkward because Senju _fucking_ Tobirama’s pink cheeks clash horribly with his red tattoos that frame his mouth.

And isn’t that terrible, the fact that the stupid bastard freak is _tall_ , which means this close he’s eye level with that mouth and those lips—

This is a terrible idea. A horrible, absolutely no good idea.

Why is he even still contemplating kissing the Senju? He should stab him. Definitely stab him. He’s close enough for Izuna to just, stab. Yes. What an excellent idea. Good job, brain. Stab.

Then Senju fucking tall Tobirama decides to awkwardly clear his throat and Izuna has a moment of stillness because yes, this is awkward, but also because it finally dawns on him that Tobirama might not have _any_ experience in this. Why does Izuna care? Why does is make something grow hot inside his chest that he finally has more experience than his rival?

Suddenly Izuna has such a strong compulsion to take, to make sure no one else sees what he’s seen in the Senju, to be his first in everything and absolutely ruin him for anyone else.

“I’m going to kiss you.” Izuna declares, because he totally knows what he wants now, and that’s to kiss the White Devil himself.

Izuna steps into the scant distance left between them and leans up—curse Tobirama’s tallness—and presses his lips against those pale lips. This close, it’s nearly impossible to avoid eye contact, so Izuna gets to see those red red eyes up close and they’re so much prettier than he could ever imagine. His sharingan burns but he can’t stop watching, watching Tobirama’s eyes widen and dilate, watching the flush deepen to almost match the red streaks on his cheeks and chin.

He pulls back and, for lack of a better thing to do, smirks at the bastard.

And then he watches Tobirama’s pink tongue swipe at his lips before they part to speak.

A piercing, banshee screech sounds out and suddenly—but not unexpectedly—he’s yanked back into Madara’s arms. (There’s only one person who can make that sound, and Izuna’s heard it _plenty_ growing up, so he simply allows himself to be manhandled. To do otherwise is painful.)

“Stop molesting my baby brother!”

“Aniki.” Izuna sighs, but makes no move to free himself.

The annoyed look is back on Tobirama’s face as Hashirama flits about him like a damn hummingbird or something.

“Anija, I’m fine.” Why yes, Tobirama certainly _is_ fine. Izuna is going to a special place in hell.

“Hashirama!”

“Madara!”

“Here we go.” Izuna wonders whether he should try to explain what the fuck just happened, but honestly, he’s still not sure himself. Of course, it got Aniki all riled up so at least he’s getting a show.

Standing next to Tobirama, he watches as his Aniki tries to defend his virtue (and for that, he’s late by quite a lot) while Hashirama vehemently denies that his _darling little brother_ would do such a thing. A quick glance to his white haired companion and Izuna bites back a laugh. It seems like he’s not the only one with a crazy older brother who thinks they know best.

His eyes catch that red gaze again and Izuna gives him a sly look, to which Tobirama gives a puzzled expression that probably doesn’t look much different from his normal expression to anyone else. Izuna wants to keep it that way.

Taking a small side step closer, he leans into Senju fucking Tobirama’s personal space relishes the fact that the damn beanpole actually leans down awkwardly to meet him at a much more agreeable height.

(Fuck whatever tree spirit the Senju fucked to make them all so damn tall. Just. Fuck ‘em.)

“Did you, uh,” Tobirama awkwardly starts, looking much younger than Izuna’s ever seen him, “get the results you were hoping for?”

It’s so clinical, so scientific that Izuna actually allows the pity to fully bloom in his chest. Man, the things Izuna could _teach_ this stupid tall bastard. And he’s not sure whether it’s because of years and years of sizing up against him, or whether it’s always been fucking Tobirama, or even whether his Aniki really _really_ needs to back the fuck off of his private life, but he finds himself, once again, _wanting_.

(A dark, all consuming want that’s vicious and so so tempting.)

And so he lets one of his genuine smiles grow on his face—one only Aniki has ever seen—and watches as Tobirama seems riveted to him, to what he might say.

(It’s the power, the control he has over Tobirama at last. The experience that he can lord over the pale bastard.)

“Hmm,” Izuna starts, whispering to draw Tobirama in closer, “one data point isn’t enough for a conclusive answer.”

The sharpness is back in Tobirama’s gaze and Izuna suppresses his shivers even as the hair on the back of his neck stands up. Because if there’s one thing he knows about his rival, it’s that he could kill Izuna, could murder him just by thinking a solution that he couldn’t possible fathom.

But he also can’t resist the draw of acquiring more knowledge, of finding patterns and figuring out conclusions. After all, he has been fighting the Senju for several, several years; not to notice this would mean Izuna is as stupid as the damn Senju makes him feel.

(There’s a morbid sense of righteousness that floods his veins, knowing that _Izuna_ is the one to know everything about Senju fucking Tobirama.)

“You can”—that pretty pink tongue flicks out again and Izuna’s totally going to find out what it tastes like, what it feels like against him—“do more of, _them_. To get enough data.”

Izuna could bust a lung laughing; the bastard can’t even say the word _kiss_. But Izuna doesn’t want to ruin _whatever_ this is, so instead he takes a breath to steady himself.

“Why, _thank you_.”

And because this is still his rival, still Senju _fucking tall as shit what the fuck_ Tobirama, he adds a quick wink at the end, just to see his rival flush horribly and completely and so so tempting.

If, when Izuna laid down later that evening, he thinks back to flushed cheeks and soft lips and pink, dashing tongues as he strokes himself, then it’s no one’s business but his own.

(And later, in the afterglow, if he twitches again at the pretty pretty pictures that he imagines the Senju will look like on his knees, then, once again, it’s no one’s business but his own.)


End file.
